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And then there was three
Topic Started: Oct 20 2008, 12:08 PM (106 Views)
"Bad Ass" Matt Covey
Member Avatar
Bad MF'er
The CZW mid-week report show has just begun to air. A show which highlights the events and CZW news from the previous week for those who either missed it, or were just too dumb to tune in to begin with. Former Assault announcer’s Michael Farley and Ricky Gold are seated behind a lavish desk as the program begins.

Ricky Gold: Hello folks and welcome to the CZW Mid-Week report. I’m Ricky Gold, sitting alongside my former Assault telecast co-anchor Michael Farley.

Michael Farley: Look at me, Derek Damage. You can take away our show, but you can not keep the highest rated commentating team in this industry, off the air!

Ricky Gold: This show is dedicated to all buzz and news worthy events that transpired a little less than a week ago and will be featured prominently here each week. Well, first thing’s first, after an amazing run, CZW’s premier shows Assault and Warzone have been combined to make one outstanding new show, effectively titled CZW Overdrive.

Michael Farley: The senate as well as the FDA stepped in with a surprise drug screening which found some of the CZW’s athletes to be less than a clean bill of health. This in turn has forced Derek Damage’s hand, and caused him to release several stars from the talent crop. This, on top of several stars who are either presently injured or on a leave of absence, has shortened the roster so that two shows were just no longer plausible.

Ricky Gold: But you can rest assured that the cream of our talent crop has risen to the occasion as no less was expected, and you can still find all of your favorites beating the hell out of each other weekly on the new show.

Michael Farley: The new show brings incredible news of interest to the wrestling world. Not only will we be seeing talent face opposition that they might not have squared off against before, but most notably, an air of interest has filled the wrestling world and internet sites alike as to the title unification matches that are scheduled to take place this week.

Ricky Gold: That’s right, Michael. Recently…

Static suddenly begins to fill the screen, making it so that the show can barely be either seen or heard. Farley begins to look off the set as Gold appears to be shrugging as the static continues to fill the screen. The footage suddenly goes black. Finally, the footage comes back, but it’s a different location entirely. What looks like a cold concrete room appears, the lights very dim as one single bulb flickers on and off, giving a sparse look at the stained concrete walls and marred floor. Something appears to be moving about in the back of the room, but isn’t easily visible from this distance. A familiar and cold in demeanor voice speaks out…

Bad Ass: We interrupt your regularly scheduled feeble attempts to watch something of insignificance, to bring you something of far more interesting and perhaps, violent, nature.

The camera turns a bit to find Matt Covey sitting on what looks like a bar stool. His tattered denim jeans and leather jacket, easily recognizable between the flickers of light. Beneath his jacket is a black t-shirt with the words “Sex and Blood” screened on the front in a blood looking font. Though the camera is focused on him, his eyes appear fixed on whatever it is that moves in the back of the room, his eyes peering aimlessly through a cloud of smoke that emanates from the cigarette in his hand. Matt suddenly stands from the stool and begins to walk towards the back of the room, the camera turning to follow him. As the camera draws in closer, the image of a man bound to the ceiling by his hands begins to show clearly between the flickering of light and darkness. Matt raises a hand to the light bulb and smacks it so that the light effectively stops flickering, giving visage to the form of “Special” Ed Covey as the man hung from the ceiling. In his mouth is an oil stained rag, which serves as a mouth gag. Matt stares his cousin over and then grabs him sternly by the jaw.

Bad Ass: How did you do it, Ed? How in the f*ck did you get them to let you back in after I put you out?

Matt removes the stained rag from Ed’s mouth so that Ed’s face is a bit more visible. His face is puffy and bruised, showing signs of a prior assault, most likely at the hands of his cousin, telling the tale of just how he got to be in the situation he is currently in.

Special Ed: Me and Spongebob painted a few children’s faces and were rewarded by the Animal Humane Society for our contributions to rising global warming effort.

Matt doesn’t hesitate as his fist comes swift against Ed’s jaw, knocking Ed’s head aside and a spurt of blood from his mouth. Matt then puts out his cigarette on Ed’s chest, causing the tortured man to scream aloud, Matt inserting the stained rag back into his mouth as he does so, muffling the screams. An intensely red blister forms on Ed’s chest where the burning cigarette had just been extinguished.

Bad Ass: No point in trying to play the hero, Ed. I can assure you that you won’t be making it to the show this week, or the next for that matter. You had it easy when you were forced to retire under contract. Now when I’m done with you, you’ll be lucky if you can ever walk again, let alone get inside a wrestling ring. But that’s fine with me. If you don’t want to squeal, you don’t have to. It makes this a lot more fun for me.

Matt suddenly turns and looks into the camera.

Bad Ass: And besides, “It doesn’t matter if Ed makes it or not.” Isn’t that what you said, Shawn?

Matt turns back to Ed.

Bad Ass: Those are some nice friends you got there, Ed. If I had friends like that while growing up, maybe I’d be about as half retarded as you are.

Matt glances back at the camera.

Bad Ass: You see, this was all too easy. From the moment I was informed as to who my partner would be this week, the cogs in my head started turning. I had Hellena call Ed, make nice like she wanted to make up, and then Pippi Long Dip-shit here shows up and catches a hell of a beating. Take a bow Hellena.

The camera turns around to show Hellena as the wilder of said equipment, she smiles at the camera, her eyes psychotic. She then turns the camera back on Matt.

Bad Ass: But it doesn’t matter to you, right Shawn? I mean, he was only one more in that match on YOUR side. But I guess you figure that even without Ed, you still have the advantage in a two-on-one handicap match for the titles, right? Well, you’d be wrong there, but then again, you usually are. You little orphan Annie looking bastards haven’t done what I’ve done, nor will you do what I’m willing to do.

Matt turns and grabs a screwdriver off a table near him and then smirks at the camera. He then abruptly turns and thrusts the metal like a knife deep into Ed’s upper right thigh, Ed screaming and his body convulsing as he flails about beneath the heavy chains that have his hands bound. Matt snarls and gnashes his teeth as he twists the screwdriver inside the wound. He then releases the tool, leaving it impaled in Ed’s leg as a dark pool of crimson begins to stain Ed’s jeans around the screwdriver. Matt looks over his handy work and nods approvingly.

Bad Ass: You know something, Blaze is absolutely right. In our TLC match, all weapons are legal. And while you guys might stick to your conservative tables, ladders, and chairs, I could bring hammers, tire irons, some gasoline and a few matches, or even this same screwdriver here. So tell me, Ed. How effective was that?

Matt removes the oil stained rag once more, and Ed immediately lets our an ear piercing scream, his face red and his forehead clammy and dripping with sweat as he cries out. Matt replaces the rag in Ed’s mouth and looks back at the camera again.

Bad Ass: You know guys, I could take the easy route and follow you guys down the whole “Let’s look at my previous footage collage” route. But that’s way too easy. That’s not even trying. Sure, I could brag about the things I’ve done, the people I’ve hurt. I could mention the insanely inhuman acts and cruel things I’ve forced upon others, or tell you about the gallons upon gallons of people’s blood I’ve spilled. But I’ve always been a firm believer that yesterday doesn’t mean sh*t for tomorrow. Case in point…

Matt reaches back against the wall and retrieves a weed eater. He primes the gas chamber on it and then fires it up, Ed’s eyes going wide with panic and fear as Matt guides the whirling reeds towards his exposed upper body. Ed’s body flails about, blood spatters flying everywhere as the rotating reeds cut deep into Ed’s flesh, leaving lacerations and trails of blood flowing all over his stomach. Flickers of blood hit the lens of the camera, Matt, the walls around them until Ed looks like he could faint. But this doesn’t stop Matt from spinning him around and running the device up and down Ed’s back, leaving the back as visually scarred and blood ridden as his front. Finally, Matt stops and a cloth comes into view, as Hellena tries to wipe the blood off the lens. Matt spins Ed back around so that he’s facing forward once more, Ed an unusual shade of pail that could be contributed to blood loss or perhaps a stress induced seizure as his body twitches helplessly. Matt then does something that comes very rarely from himself. He laughs.

Bad Ass: Good God, that was effective! I should take this thing to the ring with me sometime. But I believe my point has been made. And in case you dumb asses are too busy playing pocket pool on the short bus to realize it, my point is this. I could brag about what I’ve just done to Ed here, but the fact is, this will pail in comparison to the things I will do to the two of you this week. This? This is nothing. This is something I can say I enjoy. Call it a hobby, if you will.

Matt looks at Ed and eyes the situation.

Bad Ass: I think Ed needs a break. Let’s clean him up. Yo, Maynard!

A muffled sound appears to be coming from another room. Suddenly, a door opens and Maynard comes walking into the room with a sandwich in his hand.

Maynard O’Toole: Dude, Ed’s mom makes the best poor boy sandwiches ever!

Bad Ass: Well, I it doesn’t need to be cooked, she can’t f*ck it up. Did you get what I asked for?

Maynard: What? Oh yeah, here…

Maynard reaches into his pocket and hands Matt a small yellow and lemon shaped bottle. Matt pops the little green top on it and begins to squeeze the contents of the lemon juice all over Ed’s lacerations. Tears stream from the nearly unconscious Ed’s eyes as the sting of the juice burns and eats away at his cuts. Matt empties the bottle on Ed and then tosses the empty plastic aside, turning back to the camera.

Bad Ass: Oh, I’m sorry. Maynard meet the assholes who will be seeing this. Assholes, this is Maynard.

Maynard: How’s it going, bitches?

Bad Ass: Not to worry Shawn, no need to get your big girl panties in a bunch. Maynard isn’t here for you guys, he’s here to f**k Hellena.

Maynard: Yup, yup. I’m gonna eat that ass with a side of cool whip.

Bad Ass: It’s not bad. I can attest to that. But I digress, thank you Maynard. I’ll send Hellena up when we’re done here. And tell that bitch Bertha I want my beer on ice or I’ll black her other eye.

Maynard: Can do!

Maynard turns and leaves the room still eating his sandwich as Hellena giggles from behind the camera.

Bad Ass: Now, while Ed takes a breather. Let’s dissect some of the things you twats have been throwing around. First off Shawn, you’re right in the fact that I don’t give a damn about the titles in this company. If that were the case, I would have shot straight for the world title after beating Thanatos when he was the number one contender to the title. As a matter of fact, have a look at this…

Matt reaches off the camera and grabs the Global tag team titles, pointing out the name plates on both belts. Both of them read “Alan Fiscus”.

Bad Ass: Now normally I’d just give these damn things away, even to you two nut stains, but I promised the owner of these belts that I would hold on to them until he got back from whichever asylum he’s f*cking his way through this week. And while I may be a lot of things, a half-ass I am not. I am a man of my word. So if you guys should manage to activate your wonder twin powers and steal a victory this week, winning the titles, then so be it. It’s no sweat off my back. But because of my promise to a man who surpasses the both of you in talent and potential, I won’t be making it easy for you. But while we’re on the subject, I do have to congratulate you guys.

Matt throws his hands in the air and does a slow clap.

Bad Ass: Congratulations for winning the tag titles on the last episode of the second rate show in this company. It just goes to show you that if you make the children in attendance happy, the big wigs in the company will reward you with a title to market your popularity at the end of an era. What you’re not getting is that you winning those belts means nothing. They were practically f*cking handed to you on a silver platter. One last attempt to capitalize on the fans and send Assault out on a high note to keep the fans tuned in for the new show. That match was a stage and you two were simply the heroes in an ill-written play. So once again, congratulations on being the company’s poster boys of popularity. Alas, once you come to Warzo… I mean “Overdrive”, you’ll find that things are a lot different then when Shawn was last around here. It is the show of broken hopes and crushed dreams. There are no fairytale endings here boys. Just disappointment and the realization that you aren’t quite as good as you thought you were. So tell me, how bad is it going to feel when the two of you can’t get the job done against little ol’ me? When you’re back to being title-less, trying to find your place on a roster full of talent equal to your skill but lesser than my own? Which isn’t to say I’m in favor of tooting my own horn, but it’s just as easy to dissect the two of you individually as it is to beat the to of you individually in the same match.

Matt turns back to Ed and slaps the screwdriver, causing Ed to jerk about. Matt seems pleased to find that Ed is still conscious.

Bad Ass: First off, Shawn. You’ve relentlessly dodged the bullet that is an ass whipping from me to you. You’ve been fortunate. You waited until the moment I left Assault for Warzone before you decided to pull the dumbest move of your life and turn on Jesse Montana. Which in turn did save you from him asking me to dismember you, but what did it get you in the end? You turned on the man who backed your career, willing to take you to the top with him, all because your greedy eyes couldn’t stop molesting his world title. So what happened, Shawn? Montana beat you. Sure, you can talk about that draw you had with him that one time, but in the end he beat you. He’s still world champion today, and you were cast out of the top title contention to get lost in meaningless bouts with the lame asses on Assault. That’s your problem, you know a good thing when you see it, you just don’t know how to hold onto it. That’s why you lost your TV title, that’s why you lost ASHLEY, that’s why you fell out of grace with the Upstarts, and that’s why you’ll officially be known as one half of the tag team to have the shortest tag title reign in the history of the CZW. But that’s okay, right? Because even without titles and visions of grandeur, you still have your chums in XTC. But wait… Where’s Ace King? Oh yeah, seems he got lost along the way after I kicked his ass for sticking his nose in my business with El Pablo. And the Mexican jumping bean? Hell, he’s scarred but relieved that he’s not with the she-bitch. But even he knows his place now and is steering clear of me. Now it could just be me, but it seems you and Blaze pale in comparison to Ace and Pablo who are arguably considered the best tag team in wrestling today. Beating them repeatedly wasn’t all that hard, beating the two of you will be much easier. And now we’ve come full circle. You’re right, Shawn. I would like nothing better than to deal another blow to XTC. But as far as you not letting that happen? You can’t stop it from happening, because quite frankly, you can’t stop me.

Matt reaches in his jacket pocket and grabs another cigarette, lighting it up. He then pulls the jacket aside to reveal his shirt once more, the words “Sex and Blood” clearly showing.

Bad Ass: I have to thank you, Blaze. After hearing your little spill about me, I just had to go out and have this shirt made. It does suit me, no? As for you, the Kode of Silence didn’t have to choose me, for I’m hunting it! You’ve seen some glory in your time. Enough of a taste to want more. Problem is, your not good enough to handle any more than the title you currently wear that was, once again, just handed to you. You leap, you soar, you fly in from out of nowhere and attack people with that skinny feminine frame of yours. You sure know how to keep the kiddies coming back to see you, don’t you? Now that might work for pedophiles, but not against me. I get it. Your aerial acrobatics is your meal ticket. Therefore, the simple answer is to just break your damn legs and keep you grounded. Easy enough. With your tiny frame, I figure it shouldn’t take too many pounds of force to snap your hamstring like a toothpick. Your best bet is to probably steer clear of me in this match, that is assuming you would like to keep wrestling in the near future. But you’ve got guts, kid. You was in one sh*tty faction before and gained a little success. And you’re in another sh*tty faction now, with a little success. And yet, you’ve made it very vocal that you would like nothing more than a shot at Montana and the big prize. Problem with that is, I’d say Waters is better than you, and he couldn’t get the job done. So what makes you think you can? And even if the hand of God came down and granted you a miracle and you somehow became the top dog around here, odds are Shawn’s greedy eye would come back and before you know it, he’s super kicked you in the jaw in another vain attempt to get back into the world title picture. Of course I’d almost pay to see that. That could quite possibly put the final nail in the coffin that is XTC. And what’s this about you not “letting” me walk around with four tag titles? You don’t LET me do anything. I decide what I do and when I do it. I eat punks like you for breakfast and shit out bitches like Waters right after lunch. You say you know what it’s like getting beaten down again and again? Well that’s good to know. At least it won’t be a new experience for you, and who knows? Maybe you’ve suffered enough that after I’ve beaten you within an inch of your life, you won’t be knocked up in some stuffy old hospital room for more than a week at the most. You also mentioned that Ed has been “chomping, biting, tearing, clawing, his way wanting to get his hands on me for what I did to Loki” blah, blah, f*ckin’ blah. Look at Ed. Does it looks like he succeeded?

Matt turns to Ed and pulls the screwdriver out of his thigh, causing Ed to stir and gasp from beneath his muffled rag. Matt then forcefully drives the screwdriver into Ed’s other leg, leaving there as Ed fully comes awake, screaming and flailing about once more.

Bad Ass: Oh yeah. He’s real scary right now. Face it, you guys couldn’t possibly hate me more than Ed does right now, and he’s currently in a world of pain. You two stand no chance. Your best bet is for one of you to play bait, take the brunt of the beating while the other makes a mad dash for those belts. Problem is, I don’t think I’m going to let you bring a ladder into that ring until I’m damn sure that the two of you aren’t capable in the slightest of getting back on your feet. Who knows? Maybe I’ll park a forklift on your bodies and take my sweet ass time in grabbing those belts. See? That’s what I’m talking about. I’m willing to go further, do things you’d never dream of, cross that fine line that as fan favorites you won’t allow yourselves to cross, just to meet my goal. My goal of unifying the titles? Hell no. My goal of disappointing you and pissing on your aspirations while keeping my word to a good friend. But, just to show you that I’m not above playing with the regular toys…

Matt hits his cigarette one last time before putting it out on Ed’s forehead, dotting him right between the eyes. He then reaches and grabs a ladder off the wall and grins before turning it sideways and forcing it deep into Ed’s lacerated ribs, bruising them beneath the sound of snapping bones and crushed sinew. Ed coughs beneath the rag, blood trickling from the sides of his mouth.

Bad Ass: The ladder just isn’t as satisfying. But yes, I do know how to use one. I got no tables on hand currently as I already broke the kitchen table when Ed got here earlier. I’ve never seen solid oak splinter like that before. It was really something to see, I have to say. Could’ve been better though. Maybe if we had some barbed wire or if I’d set it on fire first… Oh wait, we did, and I did. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until afterwards that I remembered we had a f*cking camera on hand. But there’s no use in crying over spilt milk, not when you’ve got cold beer on standby.

Matt drops the ladder, the metal creating an echoing sound as it hit’s the cold concrete. He grabs a chain on the side of the wall and releases it, Ed’s body flopping helplessly to floor. Ed looks severely weak and broken, his tears and blood smeared on his face as he continues to choke from behind the rag. Matt turns him over onto his back and just gazes at him.

Bad Ass: You know this is all your own fault, right Ed? You could have declined the match. You could have just disappeared. But no, you gotta be stubborn, and each and every time you pay for it. Watch closely Blaze, I want you to see this. If possible, I want you to feel this…

Matt grabs two steel chairs from the wall where the ladder had been leaning. They appear rusty and old. Unable to defend himself for the shock of pain and blood loss, Ed lies motionless as Matt places a chair around each of his legs, the second resting against the still in-place screwdriver, causing Ed to cry out a bit.

Bad Ass: This little piggy went to market…

Matt stomps the first chair with his steel toe boots, causing the chair to collapse around Ed’s shin, a sickening snap emanating as Ed suddenly rises up, mass tears running down his face as he grabs at the chair, his leg bent in a direction human legs are not meant to go. Matt kick’s Ed in the face, sending him onto his back again.

Bad Ass: And this little piggy went to hell!

Matt stomps the second chair, the result being every bit the same as the first. Ed looks like he’s having a full blown seizure as his body spasms uncontrollably, both of his legs now broken and what appears to be a bone trying to poke it’s way through the shin in Ed’s jeans. Matt grabs a towel off of a nearby shelf and tosses it over Ed’s face.

Bad Ass: Clean yourself up, we’re done here.

Matt looks at the camera again.

Bad Ass: Well boys, there goes plan A and your three on one assault. Look again KB, that could just as easily be you and your legs. You boys got it all wrong. I am the devil. The devil is laughing. I want to hear you plead and scream. Cry to God. I want to see the look on your faces when you realizes he isn’t coming to help you. I can promise you this. Come Overdrive, win or lose, you won’t be walking out the same little girls you were walking in. It’s going to be a life changing and possibly life ending experience. Perhaps you’ll be better for having had the match, but then again, perhaps you’ll be shells of your former selves. There’s only one way to find out. Pull up your big girl Wonder Woman underoos and come get me. I’ll be waiting.

Matt points his finger like a loaded gun at the camera.

Bad Ass: Bang.

The screen returns to it’s former hellish view of a static filled screen before Michael Farley and Ricky Gold come back into view. Gold looks nauseous and repeatedly hovers his head over a nearby trashcan, spitting into it.

Michael Farley: We apologize for that interruption folks, and for Gold’s weak stomach. But it appears CZW’s self proclaimed bad ass, has taken the show into his own hands. Needless to say, we apologize once again for the intensely graphic images you’ve just seen, and for Gold’s vomiting. In further news…

Somebody off camera calls out to Farley.

Michael Farley: What? That’s all the time we have? That’s bullsh*t! That son of a bitch done went and took up our entire program! That mother fu…

The show goes off the air.
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